Jolly St Racetrack
by newsbians
Summary: Racetrack Higgins loved Christmas. More than most things.


Racetrack Higgins _loved_ Christmas. He loved the snow (even thought it meant stuffing his boots with unused papes), he loved the bright twinkly candles that families put in their windows to guide people home, he loved how joyful everyone was, and he loved giving gifts to the younger newsies. But most of all, Racetrack Higgins loved Santa Claus. His love for the man in the red suit started when his father used to sit him on his knee and read 'A Visit from St. Nicholas' on Christmas Eve, which also created his strange and often-teased-about obsession with sugar plums. Race desperately believed in Santa for as long as he could, but when the illusion started to fade, he promised he would establish that hope in the younger ones around him. And that was why he was carrying a small pine tree under his arm on a cold Tuesday morning, hoping that he would be allowed to bring it inside the lodging house.

Hustling inside to get out of the biting wind, he stopped at the front counter, where Mr. Kloppman eyed the tree warily. Before Race even got to ask, Kloppman slowly panned out "You can bring it in, but yous is cleanin' it up, Higgins." Race grinned widely and thanked the man as he dashed up the stairs into the big open space they all called a home. He quickly went to work setting it up, gathering spare blankets and wrapping them around the base to keep it standing. Then using small bits of unused papes, he carefully decorated the pine branches with pride. He was folding the paper into the star as a final touch when Jack, Davey, and Les entered the room. Jack chuckled when he saw the limp tree and meager decorations.

"Race, don't yous thinks it's time wes told the kids that a certain St. Nick ain't coming 'round this year?" Jack said, dropping a few extra newspapers into the fireplace to keep it burning. Race sprang up, running over to Les and covering his ears.

Davey sputtered bewilderedly and Les started swinging at Race, but he just dodged the tiny fists and hissed "Les still thinks S-A-N-T-A is R-E-E-L! Don't go blowin' it up!" at Jack. He let go of Les as Davey and Jack fell into hysterics, falling onto the nearest bed and clutching their stomachs with laughter.

"What! What'd he say about me?" Les cried. He turned to face Race. "I's 'll rough ya up real good, Racetrack Higgins. Hear me?!" Race nodded at the boy, but stood confused as Davey and Jack continued to laugh at him. _As long as all of the kids still believe in Santa, they can make fun of me all they want,_ he thought. _Close one_.

Later on, after Davey had realized the time and pulled Les away from a game of jacks, Les turned to Davey on the walk home. "Dave? Who's St. Nick?" He asked. His inquiring eyes made Davey giggle again, thinking of how kind Race was to try and keep the magic of Christmas alive for the kids back at the lodging house.

Not wanting to explain Christmas to him right then (Truthfully, not understanding the holiday in its entirety himself,) Davey hurriedly said "Um, one of Race's friends who comes around at Christmas time. Now come on, it's your turn to light the Shamash and recite the blessings tonight! Last one there is a broken dreidel!" He pulled at Les's hand, making them go slightly faster. Les lit up and followed Davey home.

On Christmas morning, everyone woke up in a merry mood knowing they wouldn't have to sell papes that day. The kids rushed to the tree where small gifts lie for each of them. They all exclaimed and showed off their new rubber ball, or peppermint sticks to the older kids. Someone showed up with a loaf of freshly baked bread to pass around, and everyone fell into a contented lull of happiness. On his way to his bunk, Race passed the tree. He noticed a package under the tree that hadn't been there the night before. He picked it up and read the 'To: Race, From: Santa.' that was written on the tag in grease pencil. Smiling slightly and looking around the room, he noticed Davey staring from the other side where a group of boys were playing poker. Davey smiled back and winked before turning to the game. Ripping the package open, a bright red Santa hat tumbled out with a note. Race gasped with surprise and jammed it onto his head while reading the message. In Davey's tight cursive it read " _St. Nick is real (R-E-A-L) as long as you want him to be. PS, Les & I are Jewish. Happy Hanukkah!_"


End file.
